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“Ezra has had such nice things to say about you, Ms. Pierce,” Alexander says sweetly. “ ‘Capable’ and ‘headstrong’ were the words he used, I believe.”

I don’t give him anything, keeping my expression passive. “Ezra is too generous.”

“Oh, I don’t think he is,” Alexander answers. “I can always tell, you see. Always been able to sift out the sharp ones.”

I’m not sure how to answer that, so I decide not to answer at all, the silence lingering between us with nothing more than my pursed mouth and Alexander’s leering grin. I can’t say what it is exactly that I don’t like about Alexander Hart—but it’s there.

“I guess we can begin now that we’re all here,” Ezra chimes in hesitantly. “Dani?”

I turn to regard him. Have I ever heard him hesitant before? He looks…withered, somehow. Like a caricature of his normal self. There are dark circles under his eyes, and his body language is tense, like he’s too tightly wound.

“Of course,” I tell him, grateful to be done with these threadbare pleasantries. It’s surprising, but there’s a fleeting urge to pull Ezra aside and ask if he’s okay. I ignore it. “Ready whenever you are.”

I lead Bianca to the side of the table opposite Ezra and his party, helping her into her seat before turning my attention to the nervous-looking man near Lorenzo. “Mr. Andrews?”

“Yes,” he says quickly, sitting up straighter. His eyes dart to his employer, Mr. Casiraghi, for a brief moment, then back to me. “That’s me.”

I gesture to the chair at the head of the mahogany table we’re all sitting around. “If you can just have a seat there, we can get started.”

“Right,” he says, shooting out of his chair and smoothing his tie in what definitely seems like a nervous gesture. I guess if I was being asked questions about the guy who paid my salary, I’d be nervous too. He points at the chair in question. “Here?”

“That’s good.” I glance at my notes, moving closer to Mr. Andrews. “Thank you for coming, by the way.”

Another quick glance at Lorenzo. “Of course.”

“You’ve worked at Casiraghi Development for”—I check my notes—“eight years now, correct?”

“That’s right. I was hired in 2016.”

“And what is your position there?”

“I work as Mr. Casiraghi’s personal assistant.”

I pretend to study my notepad, wanting to appear aloof. “And what are your responsibilities in that position?”

“I…” He licks his lips, flicking his gaze to Lorenzo briefly before answering. “I manage Mr. Casiraghi’s schedule and his correspondence, mostly.”

“So it’s fair to say you have access to his emails, correct?”

“Objection,” Ezra interrupts. “Speculation.”

I don’t look back at him, keeping my focus on the witness. “You can answer. A judge will decide later if it’s admissible or not.”

“Oh.” Mr. Andrews nods, swallowing. “I…yes. I have access to his emails.”

“Are you aware of anyone else having access to them besides you and Mr. Casiraghi?”

Mr. Andrews’ lips form a thin line. “Not to my knowledge, no.”

“So by the defense’s own speculation, the lascivious emails suggesting an affair sent from his computer would have to have come from either you or Mr. Casiraghi himself, correct?”

He looks behind me. “I…”

“Objection,” Ezra sighs. “Leading the witness.”

“Strike that. I’ll rephrase,” I counter. “To the best of your knowledge, is it possible for someone other than Mr. Casiraghi or yourself to enter his office and gain access to his personal computer?”

“I…Maybe? It’s not like he keeps it locked at all times.”